Tough as Nails
by kupotea
Summary: The world isn't falling apart. But then the Earth always seems to keep spinning whether people are in trouble or not. One group of not-so adults and definitely children with unusual abilities has decided to turn trouble on its head. After all, someone has to look out for the little guy. (An Edge Chronicles Superhero AU)
1. Rocks are Hard and Life Sucks (kinda)

Quint shouldered his new rifle and braced against the door, mentally prepping himself for what he was about to do.

"Young man," the shop owner stepped out from behind the counter. "When do you think you'll be back? We gotta ask so we know when to send a rescue party after you."

Quint grimaced.

"I don't know," he muttered.

"Look son, it's dangerous out there, you have to give me an idea on a return date."

"If I'm lucky, never," Quint forced himself to look the owner in the eye, a hard grimace on his face. "Just don't come looking for me okay, don't waste resources." With that he left, not giving the man a chance to reply.

Quint's resolve wavered slightly as he trekked through the snow, an icy wind biting into him. Maybe he should have picked the desert. That would have been a more fitting way to die. He smiled ruefully at the thought and fought back a couple tears. This wasn't the time for that, he chided himself. He needed to find a sheltered place to stay for the next, how long? When did he plan on going back to the world? He stopped and looked back over his shoulder.

"Who am I kidding," he whispered. "I'm not going back." With a snort he reached into his coat and pulled out a canteen of water. He raised it to his chapped lips to drink and... frozen solid. Quint hadn't even noticed the cold. _Perks of being a freak, _he thought bitterly and held the the container at arms length.  
>Slowly and carefully, using all of his will and concentration, he mustered up a small flame around the metal bottle. The fire was weak, and nearly spluttered out in the wind, but it did what he needed it to and melted the ice a bit. Quint allowed himself a moment of hope, perhaps he could learn to control this. As he drank he stared out across the barren snow field toward the mountains. If he moved quickly he could probably make it to the treeline before it got. Kicking himself for not bothering to check the sundown and sunup times, and for not bringing a watch, he stowed the water bottle and set out again.<p>

The sun was solidly below the horizon by the time Quint reached the trees. He had managed to coax a small ball of fire to serve as a light and a heat source as the temperature dropped. Shelter was his first priority. Although, part of him wondered why he bothered to try to stay alive. By all logic, he figured, he should jut lay down in the snow and go to sleep. Let hypothermia take him while he was out.  
><em>Out cold, <em>he chuckled morbidly at the thought. Yet here he was, searching for an outcropping or cave of some sort as he began climbing the mountain.

He reached a high ridge with what appeared to be a path sloping gently up the side. _Probably some sort of animal trail, _he thought and decided it would be easiest to take the path already carved out for him than try to make his own. It was steep and perilous. Quint almost fell multiple times and he worried slightly about twisting or breaking his ankle. If that happened, he was as good as dead.

The pack and rifle on his back were starting to weigh on him and he wondered at the consequences of lightening his load a bit. He didn't want to drop the rifle but... it was the thing he needed least. Concentrating too hard on not losing his footing he barely registered coming to the top of the ridge and looking out over what awaited him.  
>When he did bother to really look his breath caught in his throat. The sight that greeted him was, honestly, everything he could have asked for.<p>

A small, pristine lake shimmered black in the moonlight, perfectly reflecting the sky above it. To Quint's right and about a hundred yards from the lake was a small rock outcrop which would provide perfect cover for him. He smiled, his first genuine smile in a long time. The ball of fire hovering over his outstretched hand glowed brighter, appearing to react to Quint's mood. Quint, however, didn't notice; he was enraptured by the view.  
><em>I just need to get down there, <em>he thought. _I can explore more later. But I think I've found home. _

Quint momentarily forgot his troubles, he forgot his past, and wasn't worried about the future. Everything in front of him was so beautiful and perfect in the bright silver moonlight, he didn't want to think of anything else.

The rocks were slick with moisture, slowing Quint's descent. With one hand controlling the ball of fire and the other grasped tightly to ridge searching for secure footing he was having issues maintaining balance. The pack on his back shifted awkwardly with every movement he made and the rifle bumped hard into his head every time he slipped.  
>It was nearly midnight by the time Quint was standing on the banks of the lake. He was exhausted and the cold was beginning to bite into him. No longer distracted by the need to survive and the beauty of the surroundings his body was screaming at him to rest. Every bone and muscle in his body ached as he trekked across the open field to the rock outcropping. The overhang of the rock wasn't as large as Quint had initially thought, but it would work fine.<br>_I just can't have any guests, _he allowed himself another small smile at the thought.

With an entirely involuntary sigh of relief Quint extinguished the flame and finally lowered his pack gingerly to the ground. His back and shoulders were stiff and protested every movement but Quint felt a bit of pride welling in his stomach. He had found a place to survive. He couldn't help but wonder if maybe he could just live out the rest of his life here.

_**Three Years Later...**_

The clouds were threatening a blizzard as Quint wound his way through the industrial district of the first big city he had come to, sticking to back alleys in search of an abandoned building. Up until now he had stayed in barns and sheds, leaving long before the owners knew he was there

With a grunt Quint pushed open the heavy wooden doors to the warehouse. The noise of the city hurt his ears, not to mention the constant assault his other senses were facing. He was starting to regret leaving his northern haven to return to civilization. The warehouse promised at least slight protection from the barrage and he slowly made his way across creaking floorboards.

_At least I won't have to worry about heat._ He smiled to himself. It amazed Quint that he could still do so. Three years in isolation with only himself and a few stray animals to keep him company, but he could still find a little bit of joy in things.

Standing, at last, in the middle of the warehouse he stretched and yawned loudly, scaring some rodents out of their hiding places and sending them scuttling across the room. Quint's smile didn't waver.  
><em>Just like home.<em>

His pack hit the floor with a thud followed soon by Quint himself with another loud grunt. The wooden floor was certainly more comfortable than the rocks he had grown accustomed to, almost feeling like a bed. Quint laid back, staring up at the rotting rafters. He had been incredibly lucky so far and he certainly wasn't going to take that for granted. His eyelids began to droop as a light wind whistled through cracks in the walls and ceiling.

"Maybe the city won't be so bad," he murmured contentedly, closing his eyes. The cold drafts blowing through the building tugged at his jacket and hair bringing his memory back to his first night in the mountains, underneath that little outcropping of rock. His smile wavered only slightly as he slipped into a dream filled sleep.

The sound of the warehouse door being opened jolted Quint out of his dreams and set him immediately on edge. He shot upright, taking a defensive stance as he had so many times before. The warehouse was dark now, not that light would have been a problem for Quint. But the soft hum of voices kept him from producing any flame. If he could just slip away before whoever entered noticed him...

Two sets of heavy footfalls echoed around the wide room, providing the perfect cover for Quint to pick up his bag and start slowly creeping towards a wall. Or at least it would have, had he not cracked his shin on a pile of discarded industrial pallets. The clattering of splintered wood echoed like thunder as Quint froze, rooted to the spot. The footsteps stopped.

"Who's there?" a man's voice with an accent Quint couldn't place called out.

"Come out with your hands up and we won't hurt you," another voice, slightly higher and with a certainly Midwestern accent added, his grin apparent even though Quint couldn't see him.

"_Phin._"

Quint decided to cut his losses and try his luck with, he assumed, the owners of the warehouse.

"My name's Quint," he half-yelled in what he assumed was the correct direction, his voice cracking slightly from lack of use at that volume. "I don't mean any harm, I was just looking for a place to stay." He set his pack down again and raised both his arms, he was fairly certain neither of the men could see him, but he wasn't going to take any chances. The light hum of voices came from his left and he strained to hear what they were saying, to no avail.

Without warning a bright yellow ball of, what appeared to be, light came hurtling in his direction. Instinctively, Quint lashed out at it with a streak of flame, the intensity of the fire leaving white bars dancing in his vision. In the lingering light Quint was able to make out silhouettes of just who had entered the warehouse.

"CALLED IT."  
>"<em>BELPHINIUS.<em>" Quint had just enough time to see the taller of the two round on the shorter, slamming his arm into his companion's chest, before the light faded completely.

"What? I was right wasn't I? It's not like it would have hit him anyway," Belphinius, apparently, was unfazed by the force with which an arm was just thrust into him.

"My apologies old chap. We're not here to cause you trouble either. You're welcome to stay here, we're vagabonds much like yourself I'm afraid."

Quint smiled slightly, the two of them certainly didn't seem menacing now.

"You really can't turn off the Old English can you?"

Quint's smile widened.

"Thank you, uh."  
>"Raffix Emilius, or Raff if you prefer. My rather brash companion is Phin. Now if I may ask a small favor, could you provide a bit of light?"<p>

"Oh I, yeah sure," Quint fumbled around, rolling up his jacket sleeves before conjuring up his usual ball of flame. A soft golden light illuminated the room, casting tall shadows on the walls and ceiling.

"Much better," Raff laughed and made his way to where Quint had been laying, dragging Phin along with him. "I must say you're abilities are rather useful, unlike some people here," he jabbed an elbow towards Phin.

"So you two are...?" Quint gestured awkwardly to the fire hovering above their heads.

"Freaky deaky, yep," Phin chirruped. "Although personally, I think I'm very useful. I almost took you out didn't I?"

Raff rolled his eyes.

"Belphinius tends to think higher of himself than he ought."

Quint laughed his first genuine laugh in a long time while Phin grumbled something about being a delight. He was certainly glad these two had stumbled upon him. Barely three minutes after meeting him and they were already so friendly and welcoming.

Raff produced packaged sandwiches from his own pack and held one out to Quint.

"It's yours if you'd like," he smiled. Quint shook his head.

"I'm not sure I'm ready for that type of food yet, I've got my own, thank you though."

Phin's eyebrows shot up.

"Not ready for sandwiches? Where are you _from_?"

"Uh, west of here originally but I've um," Quint lowered himself gingerly to the floor, his shin still stinging a bit. "I've spent a while away from civilization, I guess." Phin perked right up.

"Please tell me it was to do some cool soul searching and train hard away from distractions. Please Quint, I'm begging you, have some sort of cool backstory." Quint shrugged and pulled a bundle of jerky wrapped in a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket.

"Kind of," he shrugged again.

"You are my hero," Phin clutched dramatically at his chest. "Please teach me your ways oh great wise one."

"Phin," Raff tugged hard on the back of Phin's shirt. "Let the poor man eat in peace."

"Tomorrow," Phin pointed rapidly to Quint, who jumped slightly. "Tomorrow we begin my training."

Quint laughed again.

"Tomorrow, sure."


	2. Red Cheeks and Over Enthusiasm

"Miss Pallitax, how are feeling?"

"Miss Pallitax, how has this loss affected you?"

"Miss Pallitax, what are your plans now?"

Maris Pallitax stared blankly at the reporters clustered at the bottom of the mausoleum steps. What were her plans? She barely knew how she was going to make it to the car how was she supposed to know what she wanted to do with her future. With a deep breath to clear her thoughts, she squared her shoulders and put on a brave face.

"Obviously, the loss of my mother hit us all very hard," she began, a little surprised at how strong her voice sounded. "However, as cliché as it sounds, my father and I want to use this time to celebrate my mother's life and all of the wonderful things she did for the world." Maris glanced slightly to where her father's security force was escorting him discreetly past the reporters and towards a waiting car.  
>"We hope that everyone will join us in remembering her as the strong, generous, and caring woman she was and we ask that, if possible, people donate to charities or do something to benefit their community in her honor," her father was now safely in the car. Maris had done her part.<p>

"If you'll all excuse me," she smiled sadly. "I'd like to head home, take some time to reflect and all that."

Thankfully, the reporters today seemed to have a bit more tact than the ones she had encountered before and parted to allow Maris through the crowd to where a car was waiting for her. She was able to keep a brave face as the driver closed her door and the reporters dispersed. It wasn't until they were pulling out of the cemetery that she broke down. Ever thoughtful and ever with Maris' well being on his mind her driver sped towards home, taking side streets and back roads to avoid any prying eyes.

With her knees pulled up to her chest Maris let the tears flow. She wished that her father were there with her, with a reassuring hug and just the right words to soothe both of them. She cursed her father's success. All she wanted was to be able to grieve for her mother in peace. All she wanted was for a bit of a normal life and a chance to be alone with her father.

The world spun out of control around Maris, she thought her chest might burst with all the sudden weight laid upon it.

"Duggin!" she nearly screamed and choked on her own breath. "Stop!"

Duggin brought the car screeching to a halt on the side of the road and whipped around in his seat.

"Miss-" he was too late. Maris was already out the door and sprinting off through a corn field.

Corn stalks slapped at her face and stray weeds and rocks threatened to trip her as Maris sped through the field. Her breath came in ragged gasps, chest heaving and sweat mixing with tears as they ran down her cheeks. She stumbled to a halt somewhere near what she assumed was the middle of the field, the way she came clearly marked by bent and broken stalks. Skin wet and clammy and the humidity making her clothes stick to her body she stood alone, shaking and crying.

A wind stirred and blew gently, tugging at her dress and drying her cheeks. She looked up to see clouds skittering away from the noon sun, framed by the tall stalks of summer corn.

Maris couldn't help but smile a little. Here, where she was away from responsibility and expectations and those god awful business parties, she could finally breathe. He breaths weren't deep, not yet. Stray tears still found their way out and fell silently to the ground. Something about this place, about the smell of the soil and the sway of the plants, reminded her so much of her mother.

Maris's small smile grew to a wide grin, which in turn became genuine laughter. Face still turned to the sky she threw up her arms and spun around, giggling like a small child as she tripped and fell to the ground. Tights ripped and dress stained she sat marveling at her condition. She was devastated, of course, but she had hope, and more importantly she had resolve. She wasn't about to let her pain get the best of her. She was Maris Pallitax: heir to the entirety of Indigo Corporation, years ahead of her peers in almost every way, and daughter of the two most brilliant people the world had ever seen.

"I'm going to make you proud, Mom," she looked back to the clouds. "I'm going to change the world, I swear."

Smile never wavering, she picked herself up, brushed the dirt off her dress as best she could, and headed back to the car. Her fingers lightly traced over the leaves of the corn as she walked, a new found purpose and sense of serenity settling in her chest. She would be okay.

"Miss Pallitax!" Duggin came rushing to meet her as she emerged from the field. "Are you alright, are you hurt, what _happened _to your dress?"

"I'm fine Duggin," Maris shrugged. "I had one of those life changing epiphanies. It was horribly cliché but rather wonderful."  
>"Ah, well, if it's not too much to ask, next time could you have one when we're not going 60 miles per hour down a back road?"<p>

Maris's smile only grew.

"It's a promise."

_**Three Years Later...**_

Linius Pallitax leaned his face right in the middle of his daughter's workspace, completely disrupting any flow of progress.

"Whatcha working on my girl?" he smiled and reached out to pick up one of the papers Maris was scribbling on.

"Dad please," Maris swatted his hand away. "I'm so close to getting the mechanics right on the wingpack. I just need to figure out how to account for the difference in weight between users, figure out the optimal material to make them out of and make them _practical_."  
>"Maris my dear," Linius laughed. "I don't think anyone has ever called wingpacks practical."<p>

"Well these are going to be. We're going to revolutionize transportation Dad, I can feel it," she tucked a stray hair behind her ear and chewed her lower lip, staring hard at blueprints and equations scattered all over her desk. Linius wrapped his arms around Maris's shoulders and lifted her out of her chair.

"Take a break, before you drive yourself crazy. Come back later, fresh eyes are always better."

Maris squirmed in her father's grip.

"Fresh eyes won't get this done before deadline, which, by the way, is tomorrow morning. Have you finished _your_ project?" Linius laughed and carried Maris out of their shared lab. Linius had insisted that they share a work area, he said Maris's can-do attitude made him work better and faster. Maris had agreed, simply because she preferred her father _with_ eyebrows.

"Oh come now Maris, the meeting is a whole eighteen hours away."

"You haven't even started."

"Of course not," setting Maris down gently he stooped to look her in the eye. "But that's not the point. Tonight, we're going out for dinner. We're going to have cheap steaks and fried onions. To the Outback, my love!" He grabbed Maris's arm and power marched her down the hallway, humming a horribly off key rendition of 'When the Saints Go Marching In' and waving to every Indigo Co. employee he passed. Maris couldn't help but be swept up in his excitement. Soon she was humming along, arm in arm with her father and positively beaming.


End file.
